


Never Mind If It's Burning

by leupagus



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-31
Updated: 2011-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-29 06:28:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/316755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leupagus/pseuds/leupagus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Where did you get that from?" Danny asks, hitching himself up on his elbows and making a grab for the long length of silk in Steve's hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Mind If It's Burning

"What are you doing?" Danny says.

Steve pauses. "I'm, you know," he says, waving the scarf thing around vaguely. Danny's expression isn't one Steve's used to seeing in bed when Steve's straddling him; usually it's some pretty flattering combination of aroused and irritated, but right now it's just--

"Where did you get that from?" Danny asks, hitching himself up on his elbows and making a grab for the long length of silk in Steve's hands.

"From your sock drawer, you had it in some kind of a bag and--"

"This is what happens when we ignore boundaries, Steve," Danny says with that extra dose of patience he gets in his voice whenever Gracie gets into a fight at school or Steve ignores due process. "You never thought it might be in a kind of a bag for a reason, big guy?"

Normally the "big guy" comment would get Steve right back in the mood, but this is a confusing conversation. "No?"

Danny sighs and tugs the scarf out of Steve's hand. "It's a tallit," he says, enunciating the last word. "Fringed garment, to be used when praying in Temple. This was my grandfather's; he gave it to me in his will."

"Temple - you're not Jewish," Steve points out, and yeah, now that Danny's holding it, he can see some Hebrew writing along one edge, pale cream stitches blending into the white of the fabric.

"Correction, I'm not fully Jewish," Danny says, sitting up the rest of the way. Steve slides off and to one side, still half-hard but already resigning himself to not getting laid tonight. "And I was the guy's only grandson, what was he supposed to do, huh?"

"So you're saying you don't want me to use it to tie you to the bed," Steve clarifies, because he's got to make sure before he gives up and goes downstairs to make himself some tea and listen to the story of the tallit or whatever.

Danny laughs. "Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the thought. Just maybe not with a family heirloom that is meant to be used in solemn prayer."

"Roger that," Steve says, trying to sound normal. But -- this is still new, still exciting and strange and a little terrifying, but Danny's gotten quieter the past few nights, staying awake and staring up at the ceiling, gone before Steve gets up in the morning. And now Steve has to cross off another thing he can do to keep Danny interested for just a little while longer.

Danny doesn't notice, anyway; he's staring down at the cloth, folding it carefully and smoothing out the wrinkles. "My mom -- she's about as Jewish as they come, you know, Temple every Friday night and Saturday morning, does the oneg every other month, lights the candles. Hanukkah started a few nights ago -- I sang the blessing with her and my sisters over the speakerphone, if you can believe it." He snorts, but his face is far away, and Steve scoots closer, props a careful chin on Danny's shoulder.

"Your grandpa leave you his hanukiah, too?" he asks.

Danny shifts away, turning to stare at Steve. "Look at you, with the right terminology and everything," he says, only a little mocking. "And no, he gave that to my mom."

So in the end they scrounge up six candles from various locations in the house - two tea lights from the junk drawer, a pair of ornate hurricane-glass candles that Steve thinks might've been a wedding present for his parents, a Citronella bug candle from the lanai and a huge fat candle in the shape of a dragon from Mary's room that Danny calls "Shamash" and seems reluctant to light. Steve stands there, wearing boxers and a t-shirt, while Danny sings a song that reminds Steve of church in the strangest way, the quiet chants when he was a child that he never understood but was always comforted by. The candles flicker in the warm breeze through the window, but stay strong and bright.

"It's home," Danny says. "It's -- my mom always lights the candles, and I'm always there, and I guess I was thinking this year -- maybe I don't need to be there in order to be home. You know?"

Steve doesn't, but he figures this is like the singing -- he likes the sound of it. "You want to go buy one for yourself tomorrow?"

That gets a smile, big and beautiful. "Yeah. Yeah, you and me and Grace, we can pick out a nice menorah for us."

"Yeah," Steve says, voice catching just a little, and maybe he doesn't need a scarf to tie Danny down, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let it be known that I'm a lapsed Jew in terms of the ritual and religion, and may have gotten small details wrong. That said, don't be insulting or rude if you feel you absolutely need to correct me. This is my culture, too, and I don't take kindly when people inform me that I'm Doing It Wrong.


End file.
